


chapter 20 but, like, gay

by clowntoss



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Annabeth needs a hug, Blood and Gore, Cussing, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Mostly Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Rewrite, Trauma, Violence, a lil bit of humor, i like writing gruesome fight scenes so be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowntoss/pseuds/clowntoss
Summary: chapter 20 from BoO but i made the gay less subtext-y and more obvious
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Piper McLean
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	chapter 20 but, like, gay

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this a year or two ago as kind of a fun warm-up exercise thing? idk i didn't want to have to worry abt plot and just wanted to have fun with words. i also wanted to see how gay i could make this scene without changing nearly any dialogue or actions sue me lol
> 
> also i dont own pjo or hoo, i wrote this purely for my own amusement.  
> (if i did own pjo/hoo, it would be far less heterosexual whoops)

The giant’s ear hit the ground with a wet _slap_ , ichor spattering across the stone and flowing through the gaps between Mimas’ fingers as he cradled the side of his face. He screamed, shrill and guttural, “My _ear_!” 

Annabeth didn't have the time to register his look of anger and shock, or to even take a calming breath. Piper’s fingers dug into her elbow, and she yanked her away, into the dim beyond the second doorway. 

“I will bring down this chamber!” his voice thundered behind them. “The Earth Mother shall deliver me, but you shall be _crushed_!” True to his word, the floor shook beneath her feet, the sound of stone shifting echoing around them, and Annabeth nearly toppled to her knees— and would have, if it hadn't been for Piper hauling her up and pushing onward. 

Gods— Jesus fucking _Christ_ , what were they _doing_? What were they— this wasn't going right at all. Nothing was right, and the blood-chilling crack of stone splitting crashed through her ears, lit her nerves aflame, blew her eyes wide. 

They were going to die. She felt it in her bones, sure and strong. They were going to die down here, in the dark, and their friends were never going to know, and her father was going to wonder why his baby girl had never come home from camp this summer, and her step-mother was probably going to jump for joy and rent her room out to some struggling fucking college kid and no one would care because she hadn't done anything worthwhile— 

Piper’s grip slid down to her hand. She could feel the girl’s fingers trembling, the sweat coating her palm, and could hear how she struggled to keep herself from hyperventilating. But still, she trudged onward, her jaw set with an insane amount of raw determination. 

_Gods_. 

“Piper,” she sounded like she had when she was seven years old, terrified and alone in the cyclops’ lair, “stop.” Her friend didn't do anything but tighten her grip and hasten their pace. She still kept her chin high, pretty eyes searching all around them for something, anything— exactly what, she wasn't sure. Annabeth hoped she’d somehow made a plan, but the cold coiling in her stomach forced her to rethink that thought and set in motion a whole nother chain of terror. “How— how are you dealing with this? The fear, the anger—” 

“Don't try to control it,” Piper cut her off, tone strained. Her voice was sharp, sharper than anything Annabeth had heard her friend use, but it gave way to a sliver of calm. “That’s what the temple is about. You have to accept the fear, adapt to it, ride it like the rapids on a river.”

Any fraction of calm Annabeth felt flew out the window and buried its head in the sand. 

“How do you know that?”

Piper looked at her over her shoulder. “I don’t know it. I just feel it.”

She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. And by the look in her eyes, she believed it, too. 

How in Hades was she supposed to just _accept_ that? It was bullshit, that’s what it was— they didn't have the time to sit in a prayer circle and braid flowers into each other’s hair. They needed to stop and shove it the fuck down, get their bearings. Figure out a way to kill that _fucking_ giant. 

She was about to snap at her friend that she was out of her gods damned mind, but was interrupted before she began by the sound of— it sounded like artillery, loud and mystifying, and she felt dust rain down as a wall buckled somewhere in the distance. 

It was only a matter of time before the whole place fell apart. She knew that, just like she knew she was shit with feelings, and she dug her nails into Piper’s hand. 

Okay. Okay, okay— if they made it back to the room with Ares’ statue and managed to evade Mimas, they could get to the rope. They just had to retrace their steps, use the fact that Mimas didn't know their exact position to their advantage. If she just had a little more time, and if the fucking _ground_ would stop _shaking_ —

Piper cut the rope. 

_Piper_

_cut_

_the rope._

“You cut the rope.” She looked at Piper with wide eyes, breath shortening, vision blurring. She’d cut the rope. She’d _cut_ the _rope_. _She’d cut the fucking rope_. “We’re going to die down here!” 

_HouseofNightHouseofNightHouseofNight—_

In the blink of an eye, Piper’s hands were pressed to her cheeks, forcing her to come closer until their foreheads bumped. In the back of her mind, something mumbled _this is nice_ , but it was strangled by the terror in the air. She could feel how much Piper shook as she inhaled, see her own fears mirrored in her bright kaleidoscope eyes, but, incredibly, her voice was steady when she spoke. 

“Fear can't be reasoned with. Neither can hate.” Her friend paused, took in a rattling breath. “They're like love. They're almost identical emotions. That's why Ares and Aphrodite like each other. Their twin sons— Fear and Panic— were spawned from both war and love.”

“But I don’t…” 

It wasn't charmspeak, Annabeth knew. But even so, her shoulders sagged. She found herself leaning forward into Piper’s touch, hands coming up to grip the girl’s wrists as her eyes shut against the way Piper was looking at her. “This doesn't make sense.”

“No.” Piper’s thumb brushed across her cheek, fingers moving to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Stop thinking about it.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, pleaded with her. “Just _feel_.”

Annabeth opened her eyes. Piper was still looking at her in that way of hers, all calm and beauty but no poise whatsoever. 

_Just feel_. 

She noted the slow but shaky rise and fall of Piper’s chest, tried to match her breathing to it, managed to curb her near-hyperventilation to just panicked breathing. Piper murmured something like _that’s good_ , but Annabeth was too focused on the feeling welling up in her throat, tightening like a vice around her chest. 

Maybe it was the dark, or the fact they were underground, or that the premises was crumbling on top of them as they spoke— or better yet, all three— but Annabeth was _stuck_. It was like her mind was on overdrive, speeding through all the possible _what-ifs_ so fast she was getting absolutely nowhere. Thoughts flew through her mind too quick for her to process or even register, and as she let herself close her eyes again, the floodgates opened completely. She couldn’t get enough air, no matter how hard she tried. She was choking, drowning; her emotions were _drowning_ her. 

The weight on her shoulders became ever so slightly lighter. 

She spoke frankly, “I hate that.”

“I know.” Piper was just as frank, if not more so. Beneath the terror, the fear, the panic, her eyes were hard. Resolute. “You can't plan for feelings. Like with Percy, and your future— you can't control every contingency.” 

She should stop looking at her like that. _Gods damn it all_. 

“You have to accept that. Let it scare you. Trust that it’ll be okay anyway.” 

Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Tried to piece it all together, force herself to calm down and see. 

Logically, Piper was making no sense, and Annabeth was a logical person. It couldn't ever really be okay again; that was a fact she’d come by the hard way, through hours of crying or staring numbly at the ceiling, refusing to sleep because of the guilt and remorse and the horrors she carried every day, heavier than the weight of the world— looking at Percy and seeing he was just as broken as she was. Maybe more. 

She shook her head, throat tight. _No_. “I don't know if I can.”

“Then for right now, concentrate on revenge for Damasen.”

Annabeth grimaced. 

“Revenge for Bob.”

She refused to shut her eyes and see the image of them fighting against a fate worse than death. 

They weren't dead, she knew. They could never physically _die_. They were still down there, fighting against Tartarus himself. They couldn't hide from him, not when they were in his domain— 

Damasen, killing like a machine, destruction rolling out before him like a red carpet, resigned to his fate. Screaming at the world, at Tartarus, because who really cared anyway? He knew. He knew what would happen. 

Bob, smashing monsters over the head, a little less graceful than Damasen. Gentle, even when he slashed and stabbed and killed. Thinking about the surface while he fought. The stars, the moon. Never to see them again. 

_… if that cowardly fool Damasen had done his job…_

Annabeth’s scowl melted away. “I’m good now.” 

“Great,” Piper breathed, “because I need your help. We’re going to run out there together.”

Annabeth waited a beat for Piper to continue, but her friend simply stared up at her in silence, waiting for her to agree. Dread crawled its way up her throat as she said, “Then what?”

“I have no idea.” 

“Gods, I hate it when you lead.”

If the situation had been any less dire, Annabeth would have laughed with Piper. They were still very close (Piper’s hands hadn't moved from her face), and she felt the way the girl’s whole body shook with her quiet, almost crazed laughter. If there was more light, and if they weren't in so much danger, she maybe would have mentioned that it was cute. Or maybe even that Piper herself was cute. 

But there was no light, and they were very much so in danger. It could wait until they were certain they weren't going to die. She could make it wait, even if she itched to tell her _fuckyourewonderful_ , or maybe something a little more eloquent (but probably not). 

She started to say, “Lead on,” but only really managed half of it, because Piper had tugged her head down and forward and kept on coming. 

Her lips were chapped, and it was a little clumsy in the dark. But the kiss felt nice. 

Piper pulled her closer, one hand sneaking around to tangle in the hair at the back of her head, the other sliding down to cup her neck. She pushed closer still, something like a sigh passing through her. 

_Okay, ‘nice’ is an understatement._

Annabeth wasn't really sure what to do with her hands; she’d never kissed a girl before. She knew it wasn’t much different than a boy, but it still made her freeze. It was all new territory and a little overwhelming (Piper was _kissing_ her— _Piper Mc-fucking-Lean_ was kissing _her_ ), even though it made her lungs constrict in a good way, her mind crash in the best way. 

It was over too soon. 

Piper looked a little surprised herself, and when Annabeth opened her mouth to thank her, she shook her head. “Talk later.” Her mind-boggling eyes flicked down to her lips, which still felt incredibly warm, then back up to meet Annabeth’s more than simply flustered gaze. 

Annabeth wasn't sure she’d be able to say anything that meant shit, so she nodded her head and let Piper lead her by the hand as she said, “Come on!” 

After a minute or so of stumbling in the dark, Annabeth realized Piper had no clue where she was going, and would have commented on it if they hadn't happened upon a doorway that led back into the shrine room. Her eyes were still adjusting to the light as Piper skidded to a stop, motioning frantically for quiet as Annabeth slammed into her back. 

Annabeth scowled at her, having almost knocked them both flat on the ground, then looked forward. 

He didn't know they were here. 

The giant Mimas had his back turned to them, wire-infused dreads swinging as he looked left and right, beady eyes searching for them. Annabeth drew her sword as Piper drew Katoptris beside her. “I’ll take his left—”

The girl completely ignored her. Piper charged straight at the giant with a raging battle cry that sounded more like the panicked scream one might throw out at the sight of a spider. 

Annabeth clambered after her, mumbling all the curses she knew, and managed to plunge her sword deep into the back of Mimas’ calf as Piper swung her dagger like a very sharp, very deadly, precisely aimed baseball bat at the soft flesh at the back of his knee. Ichor was heavier than blood, stickier, and Annabeth’s hands were coated in it as she yanked her sword out, watched with wide eyes as he fell to his knees, keening like a widow at her husband’s funeral. A big block of stone fell from the ceiling to her left as the ground shook again. 

“Weak mortals!” Mimas spat. He was having a terrible time trying to find his footing again. The floor beneath him was painted a dark gold, ichor still flowing freely from his ghastly wounds. “No plan of yours can defeat me!”

Beside her, Piper quipped, “That’s good. Because I don't have a plan.” 

_And look where that got us: in a crumbling underground room with a giant who wants to see our blood paint the walls_. Annabeth bit back the retort, instead focused on catching her breath, preparing herself for whatever was to come next. Gods knew what Piper was going to pull out of her ass now, but she hoped it would keep them alive. 

“Annabeth, keep our friend occupied!”

Annabeth nodded as she advanced toward him. Her voice shook horribly when she called out, “Oh, he’s occupied.” She didn't ask as Piper darted off to the statue of Ares, only yelled shrilly as she raised her sword above her head. 

When the blade connected with his shoulder, it sunk in a good three inches. Mimas let out a toe-curling scream that was half sob as she wiggled it in deeper, teeth grinding and lips curling at the smell of him. 

“‘ _Cowardly’_ , ‘ _fool’_ , and ‘ _Damasen_ ’ don't— don’t go well together in a sentence, you think?” she stuttered into his remaining ear, struggling and failing to keep the fear from her voice. When he spewed nothing but a pathetic groan, she wrenched free her blade, ichor pouring like water from his wound and dripping down her sword, coating its hilt and her hand. She chopped into his shoulder again, pushed it even further into the new hole she’d cut him, stomach turning as she half pleaded and half demanded, “ _Answer_ me, you bastard.” 

Mimas’ dark eyes were wide, pain shining like a beacon in them, but he simply ground his teeth and kept quiet. Shook his head, coughed out ichor. 

With a jagged cry, Annabeth pulled her sword free and was steeling herself to bring it down again when Mimas screamed, “ _No_!”

Annabeth looked up to see the statue of Ares’ head had been cut completely off. Flames poured from the artificial death blow, whirled about the room. 

For a disorienting moment, Annabeth’s blood boiled. Her fingers dug into the hilt of her blade and her hands shook as the giant turned from her. She wanted to see him bleed for what he’d said, what he’d insinuated. 

Her blood froze to ice when she realized his focus was pinned to Piper, and that he’d managed to get his maimed legs under him. He was yelling something at her, and Piper snapped back with that quick wit of hers, but Annabeth remained silent. 

He wouldn't get within five feet of her. She’d make sure of that. 

He took two lurching steps forward, raised his hammer, and Annabeth cleaved into his thigh, shattering what little balance he had left. As he stumbled, Piper stepped away from the statue and toward him, sheathed Katoptris in his belly, then pushed him toward the closest doorway. 

Halfway there, Mimas toppled to his knees and ended up slamming his face right into the stone ground. He groaned and started to turn over, a hand clutching his flattened nose. 

And then the top of the door frame cracked, and Mimas’ head was replaced with the stone likeness of Panic— eyes wide, veins popping, jaw dropped in an exaggerated cry. Fitting, Annabeth supposed. Not long after, he disintegrated. 

Annabeth took a deep breath. Looked from Mimas (a dune of ash now) to the statue of Ares (also a pile of ash) to Piper (definitely not ash, thank the gods). She inhaled deep, exhaled through her mouth, some of the tightness in her chest dissolving as she asked, “What just happened?”

Piper blinked at her, mouth slightly ajar. “I’m not sure.” 

Annabeth took her eyes from Piper, glanced at the ash that had once been the Ares’ statue. She licked her lips. “Piper, you were amazing.” Her friend smiled then, ducked her head shyly. “But those fiery spirits you released—”

“The makhai,” Piper supplied. 

She nodded her head absently. “How does that help us find the cure we’re looking for?”

Piper’s smile fell. “I don't know. They said I could summon them when the time comes. Maybe Artemis and Apollo can explain—”

The wall behind Piper buckled and crumpled like it was made of paper. The sight and sound sent Annabeth flying to the other side of the room, nearly wiping out on Mimas’ severed ear. She grimaced and looked up to Piper. “We need to get out of here.”

Piper frowned as she thought. “I’m working on it.”

“And, uh…” She kicked the ear with her toe, watched as it slowly slid across the ichor-saturated ground. “I think this ear is your spoil of war.” 

“ _Gross_.”

Annabeth tilted her head as she looked down at it, feigned consideration. When she looked back up at Piper, she couldn't help but smile at least a little bit. “Would make a lovely shield.”

“Shut up, Chase,” Piper mumbled, a vaguely amused curl to her lips. She waved at her for silence, eyes trained on the doorway which hadn't caved in— Fear. 

Piper’s voice was a little stilted as she started, “Thank you, brothers, for helping to kill the giant. I need one more favor— an escape.” She paused, then added on as a thought struck her. “And believe me, I am properly terrified.”

Annabeth nodded to the ear on the ground, mouthed _offering_. 

“I offer you this, uh, lovely ear as a sacrifice.”

As expected, the carving of Fear made no move to answer, but that didn't mean the rest of the room stayed where it was. Another section of wall crashed to the ground, large spiderweb cracks formed in the ceiling. 

Annabeth started when Piper grasped her hand. Piper wasn't looking at her; instead, she was staring intently at the doorway before them. “We’re going through that doorway. If this works, we _might_ find ourselves back on the surface.” 

Annabeth followed her gaze. Fear’s carving looked like what she figured she herself looked like right now— scared witless. “And if it doesn’t?” 

Piper tightened her grip on her hand, pulled her closer to her side. “Let’s find out.”

Swallowing thickly, Annabeth nodded. As Piper led them through the doorway and the shrine room collapsed behind them, it was a little easier to breathe, easier to think, easier to hope. 

Even as darkness swallowed them whole.

**Author's Note:**

> ayo tell me whatchu think in the comments, id love to hear it
> 
> also if any of u have read my other pipabeth fic, it wont be in limbo for much longer, i promise!! next chapter is coming soon!
> 
> thanks to all of y'all for reading and i hope you liked it!! :D


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